RadiationSam
by Plank the Blank
Summary: "Rude," I glared at him. "That was the day we met." "Don't remind me," he teased with a playful smirk. Sam Wells spent ten years forming a close bond with her doctor, Bruce Banner. Now she's afraid their friendship will unravel in a matter of minutes. And she blamed it all on SHIELD. M for language. BB/OC
1. How You Doin?

_Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel or Marvel-related material or anything recognizable from the movie The Avengers. I simply own Sam Wells._

_Warning: This story is rated _**M** _for intensely strong language-so far that's it. There will be F-bombs galore._

* * *

**Chapter One**

**-How the fuck are ya?-**

* * *

My world was a foggy haze. People and cars passed by me in colorful blurs and lights became fuzzy orbs. Sounds were muddled; my reaction time was laughable. I felt like I was walking in slow-motion. My nervous system wasn't working up to the speed I needed it to be at.

On any other day, the trip to Maggie's Diner would have only taken a ten minute walk. Tonight, I was going on fifteen. A worried thought slowly strung itself together, letter by letter:

_What if, in my drugged-state, I accidentally took a wrong turn._

Coming to a standstill, I looked around but found that nothing was defined enough for me to get my bearings. All of the usual landmarks were looking like they had been smeared into their backgrounds. I groaned and decided to just keep going.

Soon enough my vision was assaulted by a mass of bright light. I squinted and looked up to see Maggie's Diner lit in red. Stumbling through the door, I almost fell in the first booth before I managed to recover.

"Sam!"

I looked up at the sound of my name but shapes were still entirely indiscernible. My face melted into a frown as I tried to focus.

"Here, let me help you."

A dark shape approached me quickly and I could suddenly see the distorted visage of my good friend, Doc. With one hand on the lower of my back and the other taking one of my own hands, he carefully guided me down the aisle. He came to a slow stop and gently pressed me to sit down. The table was used for support until I could finally collapse into the booth.

Doc quickly sat across from me.

"How've you been, Sam?"

In answer to his question, I doubled over and my head banged onto the table. I groaned in conclusion.

He chuckled softly. "Is that so?"

I felt him pat the back of my head and I sluggishly swung out my arms to get him to stop. They ended up dropping to the table as well. I was too tired to fight him off.

"So, I take it the pill works." I didn't like how smug he sounded. He might as well just go ahead and say, "I told you so, you doubting-trick."

Raising my head up just enough to look him in the eyes, I slurred, "No shit, Doc. But not only are you able to give me a moment of peace from this hell, a moment I haven't had in _twenty-eight years_, but you also manage to rip it away from me by asking to meet you here."

"I'm sorry," I was damn well pleased I couldn't see clearly, otherwise the puppy-dog face I was sure he was giving me would have satiated my anger. And in that moment, I didn't want my anger to be satiated. "It was just really important."

My forehead remade acquaintance with the tabletop. "Before you continue you on," I said, my voice slightly muffled. "I'm going to need something to wake me the fuck up."

"I have something for that actually." Ignoring my select choice in words, Doc began moving around and I could hear him rummaging through something. He inhaled deeply when he finally stilled. "This is a new compound I've come up with to battle the effects of the other one. With this, you'll be wide awake in a matter of seconds."

There was that smugness again. Science was the only thing Doc could get all uppity about. Probably because it was a terrain that he mastered.

I started feeling across the table with one hand, searching for the pill. After a couple of missed swipes I finally landed on his fist. Of course, the bastard just _had_ to be difficult and refused to release his grip. After a frustrated groan I dropped my hand in defeat.

"Fuck you."

He chuckled at my muffled voice and said, "You sound so defeated, Sam."

"Just give me the little bitch-pill before I pass out on you."

"Say 'please'."

"_Please_ give me the little-bitch pill."

He worked the small pill into my hand and I gripped it tightly in case he decided to pull it back at the last second. Doc was bastard enough to do it too. A fatigued groan and then I pushed myself up, leaning back against the booth. My vision swimming, I held the pill up close to my eyes to study it. Doc, the angel that he was, made it small specifically for me. I've always had an issue with swallowing pills.

A warm Styrofoam cup was pushed my way and I turned my narrowed eyes to it, then across the way to Doc.

"It's hot chocolate," he said, as if that explained _everything_.

Picking it up, I could tell it was already half-empty. I frowned at my friend. "You know you can't get this back, right?"

He shrugged and answered, "It's all yours."

I didn't need to be told twice. The pill went down easily enough and I took a few more sips to erase the feel of it going down my throat. Doc chuckled when I shuddered but right away my vision was beginning to clear, my senses returning to normal, and my muscles getting back up to speed.

"Shit," I commented when I felt as good as new. Well, for the most part. "That _was_ fast. You're good, Doc."

And there he was in all of his smirking glory, my good friend Bruce Banner. He looked more worn out than usual; his clothes were rumpled and his hair needed to be introduced to a brush. None of that mattered though; I was just grateful to see him at all. It had been a week since our last meeting.

"Thanks," he replied with a wry smile. "But I think we should cut straight to the point." He leaned forward and stared at me seriously.

I raised my cup in a mock toast and teased, "Good man."

"I'm leaving tonight and I won't be back for a while," he blurted out rather bluntly.

Thanks be to God that I wasn't drinking at that moment otherwise Banner's face would have been drenched in hot chocolate. "What?"

"Sam, I'm going to be leaving the country for a few months," he reworded.

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And what is your fucking definition of 'a few months'?"

He fired back, "What's yours?"

"A three-day weekend."

Banner smiled. "It's definitely going to be longer than a three-day weekend."

"And why in all fuckery is that?"

"I need to skip town for a while. Let things cool down around here." He appeared uncomfortable simply talking about it. He was tense and looking around the small, and rather empty, diner as if someone was going to jump out and arrest him on the spot.

I followed his wandering gaze, wondering what had him so worried. He finally resettled back onto my own stare.

"Is this about the Harlem-incident?" It had been nearly a week since he almost destroyed the district and he still carried a mirror to always see what was over his shoulder. Figuratively speaking, of course.

"Incident?" He frowned at my downplay. "Sam," he leaned in closer and instinctively I did the same. "I _broke_ Harlem."

Mimicking his frown, I retorted, "Stop this self-blame-game nonsense you're playing, Bruce."

"It's not that easy, Sam," he argued.

"Of course it's not that easy. I'd be worried if it were. This guilt that you're feeling shows that you're a good guy, no matter how much you tell yourself otherwise."

"I'm a monster." Doc's entire body and disposition appeared to wilt at his confession.

"Stop with the dejected, self-deprecation. You are _not_ a monster. Now, I would normally slap the absolute shit out of anyone who would even have the _gall_ to call you that so don't think that just because it's _you_ saying it about _yourself_ that I _won't_ slap the absolute shit out of _you_."

"You always know how to make me feel better, don't you?" he asked sarcastically.

"Expletives and threats, old chap." I winked at him playfully, again raising my cup in a mock toast. "They'll cheer up any ol' dismal soul."

A short silence settled between us two. Doc looked down at the tabletop in deep thought while I merely watched him, wondering what was going on in that tortured head of his. So often I've wished that he would end the self-abuse and misery he inflicted on himself. It was difficult to secretly look after someone who was supposed to be looking after you. There was nothing I could think of to ease his internal conflict.

"I'm still leaving," he muttered.

I didn't know how to respond. I wasn't really thinking I would have changed his mind, though that's exactly what I wanted.

"Bruce," I started softly. I concentrated on the tabletop, trying to think of the right words ahead of time so that I wouldn't stumble. "We've known each other for, what, ten years? And for those ten years you have been the one and only, single most constant thing in my life. It's cheesy, I know, but that doesn't make it any less true. And in all of that time even when you had to leave, it was only for how I would define 'a few months' and then you'd be right back."

"You're twenty-eight now, Sam. You're an adult, all grown up," he interjected gently. "And I need to leave tonight. I'll still be in contact to keep track of you and make sure you're all right. This is something I have to do."

"At least you _can_ run."

Bruce looked pained. It must have been a difficult decision to leave but I knew it was for his best. He had brought too much attention to himself and would surely have several interested parties tracking him down. Interested parties that didn't necessarily have his best interests at heart. The mere thought of Bruce being followed by a shady corporation made me sick. Yes, this was the best choice for him. The lesser of two evils, if you will.

"I'll write you, Sam," he assured me. I smiled at his attempt to ease my despair.

"You damn well better." My mood brightened forcefully; I didn't want him to torment himself with this decision. He looked at me, clearly unsure how to take my changed demeanor. "You do know where I live so you have no fucking excuse. The same shit-hole I've been in since I myself was a little shit."

Returning my smile, he nodded. As twisted as it might sound, I knew he found a small bit of comfort in my "colorful language." Especially at times like this. I was reverting back to my normal self, or at least attempting to, which meant that I was becoming comfortable with the whole thing.

If possible, he leaned in even closer and again I followed suit. Our noses were so close to touching that I felt my stomach drop at the proximity.

Ten years was a long time to know a man. And I don't mean just _knowing_ him as far as his likes and dislikes and trivial bios. I mean _truly_ knowing someone. I knew all of his hopes and dreams, his disappointments and failures, his pros, his cons, his demons. And he knew all of mine. It was only natural that a bit of attraction develop from my end. And, with fingers crossed and hopeless wishing, his own end.

"So, what did you dream about?" An odd twinkle passed through his eyes.

Ah yes, my first experience with dreaming. It had been weird the first two nights, getting used to the whole process, and then pleasant for the few afterwards. But then, it had taken a dark turn and I experienced what must have been the nightmares people dreaded. Night terrors was a more suitable name, I found. Instead, I decided to focus on the first true enjoyable dream.

I grinned in turn. "Bruce, do you remember the day we met?"

* * *

_At twenty-five, Bruce Banner had already had his fair share of work and experience in the science realm. After spending several years in a laboratory during and after his schooling, the young doctor was growing restless, wanting to expand his research and knowledge in the nuclear physics he desperately wanted to master. He needed to make a name for himself to make his mother proud and to prove his father wrong._

_With the near-obsessive drive to accomplish more than his father ever did, Bruce accepted a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity as warden of a young girl ailing from an altered physiology due to radiation. It was a unique position that he hoped would only further his studies. The girl's current doctor already explained to him that there was so much that could be learned and he had full rein on experiments. Well, as long as her well-being wasn't compromised. But even in his contract, the terms "well-being" and "compromised" had only been vaguely defined. _

_Bruce wondered what exactly the department had in mind with the kid and her future. At the very least he could be grateful that he was the one granted the position and not some maniacal scientist who would stoop to callous tests just to further personal gain. Bruce might have been driven but he wasn't inhumane._

_As the elevator raced up to the top floor, his heartbeat accelerated knowing that this was going to be a major milestone in his life. Bruce only hoped he was prepared for it._

* * *

_At eighteen, Sam Wells had already had her fair share of hardship and pain in the living realm. Years of suffering had only been eased in the past eleven months by her most recent doctor-Dr. Priya Panditi-and already she was being assigned to a new one. Sam could only hope that this one wasn't like her last one. But hope could only get her so far._

_A sharp stream of beeps sounded from a small device attached to her wrist. Dr. P. frowned and moved towards her to inspect the problem. Sam ignored it and continued moving through the positions the yoga instructor on the video was demonstrating. She sat on the floor of the living room in front of the T.V., contorted into the demonstrated pose._

"_Sam, you're supposed to be relaxing and easing your mind."_

_Twisting into a Full Pigeon, Sam grunted, "I _am_."_

"_Then why is your monitor going off?"_

"_Because this bitch is annoying me. How the hell am I supposed to do all of these poses? I'm not a fucking contortionist."_

_Dr. P. sighed knowing that Sam was attempting to brush off the real issue. Sam's expletives were a defense-mechanism and a sign that she was getting agitated. Or she was simply bored and using profanity to entertain herself. She always found a "colorful vocabulary" to be amusing. But it was often difficult to tell with Sam._

"_Calm down, Sam, and focus on your breathing."_

"_How about I focus on not fucking breaking my neck." Sam struggled into a Shoulder Stand, breathing heavily to maintain her balance as she lifted her legs straight up in the air. "I am royally despising this old, withering quim."_

"_Hush," Dr. P. admonished softly. "And concentrate."_

_A ding from across the room and down the hallway caught her attention. Dr. P. smiled and began to follow the sound._

"_That must be Dr. Banner. Aren't you excited to meet him, Sam?" she asked over her shoulder._

"_Abso-fucking-lutely," the girl sputtered out. Controlling her body was proving difficult when her doctor kept talking to her. It was like a dentist trying to strike up conversation while her hands were shoved in your mouth._

_Dr. Panditi made it to the elevator at the end of the hall in time to see the doors slide open and Bruce Banner to step forward._

"_Hello, Dr. Banner," she greeted with a warm smile and an outstretched hand. "It's so nice to finally meet you. I must say though, you are quite a bit younger than I had imagined. Most of the applicants had been at least forty-five."_

_Accepting her hand with a friendly smile, Bruce replied, "Thank you, Dr. Panditi. It's nice to meet you too. And yes, I was surprised when I found out that I had been the one chosen for this opportunity. It's quite an honor that I don't intend to waste."_

_Dr. P.'s smile wavered. "Yes, just please remember that you will be working with an actual living, breathing individual and not some test tubes and a Bunsen burner."_

_Noting the older doctor's sudden recoil, Bruce quickly smoothed over the misunderstanding. "Of course! I intend to keep Miss Wells' welfare a top priority."_

"_That's good to hear," Dr. P. replied, her smile brightening. "I believe you will do just fine then."_

_Suddenly, a loud crash was heard from the living area and a long string of profanity filled the small area._

"_What the fucking-mother-fucking-fucker! You bloody twat! Fuck me sideways, that hurt!"_

"_You all right, Sam?" Dr. P. called from the hallway._

"_This trick is trying do me in! How, in all that is fucking holy, am I supposed to do that? My legs were not built to _do _that! It is a physical impossibility! I have had enough with this fuckery!"_

_Turning to Dr. Banner with a steady smile, Dr. P. said, "Let's introduce you to Miss Sam, shall we?"_

_Bruce didn't know what he was expecting when he would finally meet the famous Sam Wells, but what he found wasn't it._

_They walked in on a young woman sprawled facedown across the floor in front of a television set. Her dark frizzy mane of hair was slipping from its bun and her black camisole and tan linen wide-leg pants were rumpled and slightly stained with sweat spots from her workout. She was breathing heavily with a small groan every now and then._

"_Sam," Dr. P. addressed._

"_What?" Sam moaned._

"_You have a visitor. Although, I suppose you won't be a visitor after today." She turned to Dr. Banner and jerked her head towards the exhausted body on the ground._

_Stepping forward, he said, "Hi, I'm Bru- Dr. Bruce Banner."_

_With an incomprehensible grumble, Sam pushed herself up into a sitting position and stared at the man smiling awkwardly before her. "Sam Wells," she introduced in turn. "How the fuck are ya?"_

_Dr. Panditi touched his arm and assured, "Don't worry. You'll get used to the language."_

_Bruce glanced over to Sam as she shook her head and mouthed "No you won't."_

"_I believe I can handle it." He gave Sam a wry smile who merely raised her eyebrows. _

_She was unsure about this new guy. He was young, which meant that he felt he had a lot to prove and a lot of ambition to make his name known. __**Just like her last caretaker**__. He would more than likely feel compelled to achieve these goals by any means necessary. __**Just like her last caretaker**__. And even more than likely, it would all be at her expense._

_A sudden burst of beeps streamed from the watch-like device on her wrist. Dr. P. frowned, Dr. Banner's eyes widened, and Sam merely snapped from her musings._

"_Ah bitches I'm hungry." She jumped up to her feet and rose gracefully to her full height. "Doctor," she nodded to Dr. P. "Doctor," and then to Bruce._

_Before she could bound off for the kitchen, Dr. P. quickly interjected, "Aren't you going to finish your exercises?"_

_Sam jerked to a halt and turned to look at the T.V. "How? It's not even working," she explained with eyes narrowed at the entertainment system._

_The two doctors turned their attention to the set and sure enough, the screen was black and a line of smoke was trickling from the DVD player._

"_Sam," Dr. P. said with a warning tone._

"_Doc, you cannot blame me every time a piece of electronic equipment malfunctions. It _is_ possible that things break all on their own accord without any help on my part."_

_And with that, Sam continued her trek to find some food._

"_She can disrupt technology?" Dr. Banner asked._

"_Unfortunately," Dr. Panditi sighed. "Supposedly it was the first skill she mastered."_

"_I wonder why that one."_

_With a shrug Dr. Panditi mused, "Maybe it was from trying to stop Dr. Palmer's experiments-disrupt his machines, and whatnot."_

"_Dr. Palmer?"_

"_Her previous guardian. I'm sure you noticed in your contract that the terms about her well-being being compromised were loosely defined, at best."_

"_I did, actually."_

"_Well, Dr. Palmer took full advantage of the ambiguous parameters. True, we learned a great deal about the effects of radiation exposure during the prenatal stages but I have to ask at what cost? We often forget that we're dealing with a fellow human being. She gets painted as an animal, a dehumanized subject that makes testing easier and seem more ethical. Sam's not a monster, Bruce. She may be in a cage her entire life but she's no monster. And if she does turn into one, it's only because we pushed it on her. It's all psychological and completely avoidable."_

_Dr. Banner didn't know how to respond. He didn't disagree, of course, but he wasn't prepared for the burst of emotional statements. This was clearly a stance Dr. Panditi felt passionate about. He wondered if he too would grow to be just as passionate about it._

_Watching Sam rummaging through the fridge, he couldn't see her as a monster. The pleased look on her face when she found a lone juice box tucked away in the back-the last one she declared to herself-surely wasn't the look of a monster. And the way she deeply contemplated choosing a fruit bowl over a stick of string cheese-the fruit bowl ultimately won out-was endearing. And monsters weren't endearing._

_Bruce realized in that moment why Dr. Panditi was ardent in the girl's rights. She was simply a child. Granted, a child with a very adult mouth, but innocent all the same. Dr. Panditi saw her as a lovable young lady whom in her mind she adopted as a daughter. And all in eleven months._

_Bruce's own contract had been signed for five years. He worried how far along his attachment would be by the end of it. It had been stressed to him to remain as unemotionally involved as possible but he could already foresee that failing quickly. If anything it had failed the moment she asked him how he was, in her own choice words. Never before had anyone asked him on first meeting, if ever, and in a weird way he found it made her charming._

_Settling at the long hardwood table, Sam reached over to pull a large book and notepad towards her. She flipped to a random page, tossed a grape into her mouth-catching it with ease-and began writing furiously all over the paper, switching her attention between the pad and the book. After a few seconds she would pause to toss another piece of fruit into the air, only to catch it with her mouth, a skill she was quite proud of._

_Her attention was drawn away from the book only when Dr. Banner sat in a chair across from her. He gave her small smile and in response her head tilted slightly to the side, as if confused as to why he joined her._

"_Dr. Panditi went to finalize the reports and make sure I was all setup in the system," he explained._

_Sam nodded, satisfied with his answer, and returned to her problem. Dr. Banner noticed something else that was odd about her. She switched her pencil from hand to hand when she wrote on a different page. Her left hand was used for the left side of the notebook while her right hand was used for the right._

"_You're ambidextrous," he observed._

_Without looking up from her work she answered back, "I got bored one summer." And then with a playful smile she added, "Guess which one is my natural dominant hand."_

_He studied her for a moment. It was difficult to say; she seemed so natural with both. "Statistically speaking, you'd be more likely to be right-handed."_

"_But then again, statistically speaking, I wouldn't even be alive right now so statistics don't apply where I'm concerned," she fired back._

"_Left."_

_Sam didn't answer; she simply smirked and then returned to her work. Bruce frowned at the lack of response, not happy with her shrug. Noticing his dissatisfaction, Sam pushed the fruit bowl towards him with her pencil._

"_Grape?" she offered._

_Again he studied her. Was this a sort of agreement or a peace offering? Either way, Bruce decided that it would be detrimental to their rapport if he declined. With that reasoning in mind, he thanked her and picked out a small bundle of white grapes. It seemed to be the right choice as she gave him a pleased smile._

"_What are you working on?" he asked her curiously._

"_False Logic puzzles."_

"_False Logic?"_

_Sam nodded, dropping her pencil on the book and stretching her arms above her head. "Yep. Each problem you are presented with at least one false statement that must be identified through process of trial-and-error in order to solve the puzzle." _

_She looked down at the one she was currently working on and then back up at Bruce. She flipped a few pages and put her pencil in to hold the place._

"_Would you like to try a hand at solving one?"_

_Bruce was slightly taken aback by her question. Was this too a peace offering? More likely, Brue thought further, it was her simply being friendly. She must have received very little interaction outside of her caretakers and he knew she didn't get visitors. This was just a sheltered young girl reaching out for human-contact. He couldn't possibly turn her down._

"_Slide that over here," he told her._

_Sam pushed him the book with the pencil marking the page he was intended to work on. He began reading the back story to the problem:_

_In short, a knight had to work his way through a castle's maze in order to be free. Each room would have at least two doors and each door would have a sign to guide him. The catch was, some signs would be true and some signs would be false._

_The first room was clearly meant to be easiest as it only had two options. Bruce smirked to himself, figuring this would be straightforward._

_Door A read: "Only one of these signs is false."_

_Door B read: "This is the door you should go through."_

_He took a moment to go through a mental breakdown of the problem. Sam watched him, fascinated by the way his eyes lit up with the challenge. She wondered if that's what she looked like when she was trying to solve puzzles._

_Bruce leaned back in his chair and smirked at Sam. "Easy. Door A is the one that should be opened."_

_Without looking at the book, Sam smiled and said, "Correct. Now, on to the second room."_

_The second room still only had two doors._

_Door A read: "These signs are both false."_

_Door B read: "This is the way to go."_

_Bruce briefly narrowed his eyes when he encountered the contradiction he was trying to work through. This one was actually easier than the first._

"_B."_

"_Correct."_

_Bruce could almost forget that he was currently sitting with his ward in a building that he wouldn't be able to leave without authorization. The puzzle was a nice distraction._

_The difficulty was taken up a notch in the third room with one more door being added._

_Door A read: "Exactly two of these signs are false."_

_Door B read: "This is the door to go through."_

_Door C read: "Enter the next room through this door."_

_Sam wordlessly slid the notepad over to him. He picked it up without looking away from the problem and began drawing out truth-tables for each door, sign, and possibility. He refused to let a word problem get the best of him; he was a physicist, damn it!_

_After a few quiet minutes, he put down the pencil and sighed._

"_A."_

"_Correct. Fruit?"_

_This time he didn't even hesitate and picked out a plump strawberry. _

"_You know, for a scientist you don't disappoint."_

_Dr. Banner looked at her puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"_

_She shrugged and grabbed a blueberry with her left hand before placing it in her right and then in her mouth. Bruce didn't even hear her answer. He was so mesmerized by her little process. Each time she reached for the fruit bowl it was always with her left hand. Then, she would drop it in her right hand before should would eat it. It was odd._

"_Right," he blurted out, still staring at her hands._

_Sam froze with a grape in her right hand, poised at her lips. "What?"_

"_You're right handed."_

"_I'm ambidextrous," she reminded._

_He shook his head. "No, you're natural dominant hand is your right."_

_The grape finally made its way past her lips. "Correct."_

_He smiled, pleased that he got right-no pun intended. He was the master puzzler that day, apparently._

"_May I ask how you came to that conclusion?" she queried. _

"_Your odd quirk. You reach for a fruit with your left hand only to transfer it to your right and _then_ eat it. If you were left handed then it would be opposite. You eat with the hand you feel most comfortable with. It's a natural reflex."_

"_As I said before, for a scientist you don't disappoint."_

"_But why?"_

"_Why do I not just eat with my right hand? Because I don't want to kill you, Doc. Now that you're enjoying the fruit bowl with me, I can't risk any saliva-even smallest amount-coming in contact with whatever you ingest. Thus, the transfer. Whether it be saliva or blood or _anything else_, any sort of bodily fluid could seriously harm you. And I would very much rather not injure my new doctor on his first day." Sam crossed her arms as she finished the explanation. _

"_Now," she continued. "Are going to get the moron knight free from the castle maze or are you going to have him fucked down there forever and rot?"_

_Smirking, Bruce turned back to continue the problem with Sam looking across the way, grabbing a piece of fruit with her left hand, dropping it in her right, and then eating it._

* * *

"That was your first dream?" Bruce asked me as we both finished our own internal reminiscing.

I shrugged. "For the most part."

He leaned back in his seat. "How . . . boring."

I frowned. "Rude. I found it to be quite fucking enjoyable, thank you very _much_."

Bruce shrugged. "I guess . . ." he trailed off.

"_Fucking_ rude," I glared at him. "That was the day we met, trick."

"Don't remind me," he teased with playful smirk.

"Okay, now I _want_ you to fucking leave."

"No you don't."

"Oh, like fuck I don't! I've had enough with your fucking attitude-your 'fuckitude' if you will."

Chuckling, Bruce looked me in the eyes and said with a genuinely warm smile, "I'm going to miss you, Sam. You and that mouth of yours."

And that's when I was sure I had passed out. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I knew he was only talking about my vulgarity but just him saying anything about my mouth and missing it was enough to make my heart implode with delight. Fucking sickening, this feeling I have for him.

And here he was, leaving.

* * *

_A/N: In my word processor this is at a whopping 5,338 words and 12.25 pages. Not quite sure yet if all chapters will be at this length. I can't foresee quick updates if that happens to be the case but I promise to make a valiant effort! _

_Oh and I hope some of you found a bit of fun with the logic puzzles. I would like to credit __Kurt Smith, Norman D. Willis, and Mark Zegarelli in their _Legendary Logic Puzzles _for the excerpts. They always remind me of that scene from _The Labyrinth _when Sarah encounters her own paradox riddle from the door guardsmen. _

_I hope to have at least caught a smidgen of interest or enough to warrant a return for the next update :]_

_OH. Before I forget, the background and timeline of events for our beloved Bruce Banner will be changed/altered from the comics to fit more with the story. It won't be anything major. Mostly, it's going to be the age his work goes awry and his relationship with Betty. Truth be told, I've never read the comics so when I looked him up on the Marvel wikia, I was a little overwhelmed. So, I'm going to do the best I can. If there is anyone who would like to give me more background information then by all means send it my way!_

_One more thing-last one I swear!-I'm thinking about doing several more "flashbacks" in order to portray more of the already well-established relationship between Sam and Bruce. I'm considering tying in a flashback for each chapter, maybe even having a couple be stand-alones. But these are mere thoughts._

_All right. _**Now**_ you are free!_


	2. Let's Get Physical, Physical

_Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel or Marvel-related material or anything recognizable from the movie The Avengers. I simply own Sam Wells._

___Warning: This story is rated _**M** _for intensely strong language. So far that's all to report._

* * *

**Chapter Two**

-**Who the fuck do I look like, Olivia Newton-John?**-

* * *

Bruce followed me back to my apartment (to make sure his little bitch-pill didn't have any unwanted side effects) and I tried to remain brusque, tactless, and borderline boorish. The true Sam. But damn him for making it so difficult.

First, he had held the door open for me as we left the diner. I passed him with a glare and a curt "Chauvinist" as he simply smiled.

Then, he had decided to continue the chivalrous act by offering me his arm. I had rolled my eyes and commented sarcastically, "How gentlemanly of you." But my hand still slid into the crook of his arm and he was still smiling. It all felt too natural for comfort, walking the streets among people, couples giving us knowing looks (what they knew though was beyond me). This was my Hell.

"Everything all right?" he had asked.

"What?" I had been too busy eyeballing any fuckers who dared to give us a second-glance.

He chuckled, looking down at the hand nestled in his arm, and said, "You've got a pretty good grip on my arm there."

"Well fuck me for being strong." Relaxing my hold, I tossed him a glare before resuming my public scrutiny.

After that, he almost sent me into a flustered frenzy by telling me about his plans-where he was going, what he was going to be doing, how he was hoping this would help put _**the other guy**_ at ease. It wasn't _what_ he had been saying that had put me on edge but _how_ he had been saying it. I understood that he was wanting to keep things quiet while we walked among the public but leaning over and whispering it lowly in my ear was unnecessary and uncalled for.

"A foreigner in a foreign land. Sounds exciting, doesn't it?"

"Exhila-fucking-rating."

"I'm hoping that I'll be able to help some people in the process."

"Well, aren't you a fucking saint?"

"No one will know who I am or about _**the other guy**_. I can intermingle with the public as I please without constantly looking over my shoulder."

"He's a bitch, _**the other guy**_. I mean shit! I keep tellin' ya. Assert yourself; it's tough love. When he's bad you should say, 'That's a bad Mr. Hulk,' and you smack him on the head."

"He's not Mr. Kitty and I'm not Eric Cartman, Sam."

"Respect my authoritah!"

For the grand finale, he walked into my apartment behind me and the moment I turned back after locking the door he was already pulling me into his arms. That heartless bastard.

I stood there, stiff and awkward. "Uh, Bruce?"

"Yes, Sam?" He asked. His grip on me didn't loosen. That heartless, cold-blooded bastard.

"You seem to have collapsed. On me." I silently fumed at his evil ways.

He hugged me tighter. "No, I don't think so." That heartless, cold-blooded, son of a bitch, bastard.

I mouthed a small "fuck me" before uneasily patting his back. There was a low rumble in his chest as he chuckled.

"Sam, I'm not a baby that needs burping," He chided as he pulled away. Only Bruce could make the word "burping" not sound crude. "But I have made you feel uncomfortable."

Beyond all fucking reason.

"Only a smidgen."

Bruce dismissed me with a shrug and embraced me once more. I sighed into him and just accepted the too close for comfort contact. Begrudgingly, I returned the hug. That seemed to please him as he smiled into my shoulder and his right arm slipped to my waist.

I was not at all prepared for what he did next.

Bruce pinched my side, just under my ribcage, and all at once I stiffened. By brain couldn't compute right away what was happening but once it kick-started I began struggling against his hold. I was convulsing and trying to stifle the uncontrollable laughter. He released me, making me jump far out of his reach. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I stared at him with wide eyes.

"Wha-what the shit was that all about?" I stammered.

"I don't know when I'll get the chance to tickle you again," he answered matter-of-factly.

"Dude, not cool. _**Cripes**_, I wish you had never found that out."

Bruce shrugged and said, "You tend to find out a lot of things from a physical exam."

My face flashed red. "Do _**not**_ speak of _**that **_ever fucking again."

This time, his smile was replaced with a small smirk. "Oh, you mean this?" Bruce reached for my side again and I almost kicked him in the face right there.

Instead, I mentally wished a pox on him and his family for bringing up the fucking physical. One of the most embarrassing moments of my _**fucked**_ life.

* * *

"_Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful ship-"_

_Bruce smiled to himself as he watched the young Sam Wells on the monitor, singing to herself as she worked on a jigsaw puzzle at the coffee table in the living room. He found it adorable that she unknowingly got the verse wrong. _

_The young doctor was working in a lab on the floor below. Files and reports were spread across the black lab table as he updated himself on all information-Sam Wells. There had been a small security monitor installed on the wall nearby so that when in the lab, someone could still keep an eye on Sam. A speaker system had also been put in for communication._

"_That started from this tropic port, aboard this tiny tr-"_

_Looking up, Bruce could see Sam frowning, thinking through the lyrics to find her mistake. _

"_With Gilligan,"_

_Bruce chuckled when Sam decided to just skip to the end, belting out the most well-known verse._

"_The Skipper too, the Millionaire and his wife,"_

_He now found himself mouthing along with her._

"_The movie star, Professor, and Mary Ann here on Gilligan's Isle!"_

_Leaning over, Bruce pressed the speaker button and spoke into it. "Just for future reference," Sam's head whipped up to the camera. "It's 'a fateful _**trip**_' and 'aboard this tiny _**ship**_'."_

_In response, Sam shot her middle finger at the camera and turned back to her puzzle._

"_Here's the story, of a lovely lady!" She shouted over her shoulder._

"_What year were you born?" Bruce chuckled into the speaker._

"_1984, bitches!"_

"_Considering Gilligan's Island ended in 1967 and The Brady Bunch in 1974, you're too young to know about these shows."_

"_Re-runs, bitches! And how do you know so much about obscure prime time trivia?" she fired at him._

_Instead of answering, he said, "Go back to your puzzle, Sam."_

_This time he was presented with two middle-fingers, waving high above her head._

"_One more thing," he added. Sam dropped her hands to the table and, with a pseudo-frustrated sigh, turned towards the camera in the upper corner of the room._

"_Yes, _**doctor**_?"_

"_Dr. Panditi has you scheduled for a progress examination today. Were you aware of this?"_

_Once a year Sam had to complete a battery of tests to determine her state of health. It was more than a check-up or a physical exam. She had to perform well in areas such as physical fitness (cardio, strength, flexibility, coordination, vision, and hearing); cognitive(math equations, various puzzles, memorization, and focus assessments); and then an actual physical examination in which a doctor examined her physically for anomalies. These evaluations were important because Sam Wells was an uncharted water. No one knew what to expect from her. _

_Naturally, she hated the tests._

"_Were you aware of the number of fucks I give because it's a shocking none." The speakers were so sensitive that even her mumble was caught clear as day._

_Ignoring her statement, he ordered, "You're due down in the examination room at one o'clock."_

"_You're due down in the I-don't-give-a-fuck room at all the time o'clock."_

"_Don't be late or I'll have to use force," he threatened lightly._

"_You couldn't force me to give a fuck."_

"_You know," he decided to comment on her behavior. "For a legal adult you're astoundingly immature."_

_Bruce honestly meant it as a joke, just a teasing jab, but Sam apparently didn't take it that way. She stiffened, hands freezing as they had previously been putting a piece in place. When she spoke next, her voice was bitter._

"_What do you expect from someone who has lived her near-whole life in one building meant to imprison her? All I've had are the media outlets and a diverse collection of books to clue me in on the outside society and what's acceptable and expected of an eighteen year old woman."_

"_I've only had contact with doctors and guards. Dr. Panditi was the first one who took any sort of interest in my emotional well-being. For eighteen years I have had _**zero** _role models. No one to look up to, no one to relate to, no one to comfort me. I don't know any other way. Please excuse me if you find my behavior inappropriate."_

_That was not at all the type of response he meant to elicit. Bruce expected her to return with some snarky comeback but he had unknowingly hit a raw nerve. Bruce had the overwhelming desire to go to her and apologize face-to-face, forgetting the fact that he had no idea she would be offended._

_For all her fight and insolence, she really only wanted someone to reach out to her as more than a scientist in a white coat. And that someone had been replaced by him, a man who caused her to fly to the defensive. He made a note to tread more carefully around certain topics._

_Before he could press the button to work damage-control, she was already abandoning the puzzle and heading to her room. Bruce removed his glasses and rubbed his face. Sighing, he wondered how he was going to be able to do the progress report. He could tell that Sam hadn't thought about what it would entail. Bruce felt uncomfortable just thinking about it._

_Waiting down in the examination room, Bruce was all but ready to go find her when his watch showed 1:00. Much to his surprise, she walked in on time and stood across from him expectantly. She was prepared for the examinations, dressed in loose-fitting exercise clothes and sneakers. He was disheartened when Sam didn't acknowledge him verbally._

_Taking in a deep breath, he grabbed his clipboard and pen. "Well, shall we get started?"_

_He was answered with silence. Bruce looked down at his blank report in an attempt to hide his smile trying to break out from the rising awkward-levels._

"_Right," He continued as he looked up over the clipboard. "I suppose we should do the cognitive portion first."_

_Still not speaking, Sam walked over to a large screen on the wall. In front of it sat a metal desk and chair. The desk had a built-in touch screen keyboard for this portion. An electronic pad with a stylus was set beside it in case the subject needed to work through problems visually. _

_Taking a seat, she waited for the disconcerted doctor to apply the Helmet (or so she called it). It was a highly advanced and highly sensitive headgear designed for a more portable functional MRI, eliminating the need to use a bulky scanner. With the Helmet, the participant was less restricted, thereby capable of completing a vast array of activities. Coupled with the radiation already present in Sam's cells, the resulting images were greatly detailed and very telling. There were barely a handful created, with this one in particular having been donated by an unspecified government division._

_Bruce was practically shaking with the excitement of being able to witness that firsthand. He handed Sam the silicone cap that had been doped to increase conductivity. Countless tiny copper flat head pins had been distributed evenly to further the effect. The pins would then feed into the Helmet in order to optimize imaging._

_Turning his attention to the control console, he didn't notice Sam struggling to work the cap over all of her hair. All of his concentration was in setting up the program and the recorders. It wasn't until he heard a small exhale that he glanced up from the screen. He almost smiled but managed to work it down in order to walk back to her._

"_Here," he offered, holding out his hand._

_If looks could kill he'd be dead five times over._

_After a moment of intense glowering, Sam slapped the cap into his hand and turned away from him. She worked her dark curls into a messy pile on the top of her head. Bruce carefully stretched the cap over her scalp. He felt Sam stiffen when his fingers worked over her hands. She held her hair in place until confident it was well covered. With the cap in place, Bruce then added the Helmet, fitting it onto the ends of the pins. Sam handled the chin strap herself so he returned to the console to ensure everything was all set. _

_Smiling when the image of her brain loaded on the far right screen, Dr. Banner typed in the entry codes on the middle console and before beginning the command he asked, "Cognitive Testing on stand-by. Is the subject ready?"_

_All he got was a thumbs up._

_Bruce sighed. "Subject is ready. Cognitive Testing commencing," he paused a moment to allow Sam to prepare. "Now." With the button pressed, the machines whirred to life and the giant projector lit up._

_He observed as Sam worked through the hour-long section. She flew through the puzzles effortlessly (no surprise there as those were her most practiced). The math material managed to catch her a few times, slowing her down a bit. Bruce was still impressed by her performance though; she was way ahead of the time limit._

_Until she reached the memorization and focus portions._

_She stumbled through the memorization before almost losing it on the focus. Quiet groans of frustration were all that alerted him to her distress. Oddly enough, not a single profanity, vulgarity, or expletive was said._

_The more annoyed she got, the more mistakes she made. Bruce wanted to tell her to calm down and breathe but he wasn't allowed to communicate with her in any way; it would alter the results and the test would have to be reset and taken again at a later time. Instead he made himself focus on the screens, taking notes on which areas fluctuated with activity. Her mood was playing a major factor. The more upset she became, the more erratic her blood flowed to the regions of her brain-it almost seemed to be pulsing._

_A small series of beeps sounded from the small device on her wrist, causing the doctor to look up. Taking measured, deep breaths, Sam slowed her work until the beeping stilled. Her blood flow returned to normal and never acted up again._

_After the last question was submitted, Sam sighed heavily and relaxed in her seat. The amounts of information gathered from the test was unimaginable. Only one thing would hinder the potential and that was the lack of a control subject to compare the results to. Most MRI tasks were simple and brief in comparison. In order to be valid, the control would have to be put through the exact same test as Sam. For some unknown reason, no one had ever done it before. That meant Bruce would never be certain how Sam's radiation affected her brain functioning._

_The information was quickly saved into the database to be examined and filed later. He had to prepare Sam for the next portion-Physical Fitness._

"_I've always hated the memorization and focus." Bruce looked up at Sam, but she was still staring at the projector. "Focus more than anything."_

"_Your time slowed significantly. I never noticed you having any difficulty with paying attention."_

_Still facing the screen, she asked, "You haven't noticed how intensely I work on my assignments?"_

_Straightening, Bruce thought that over. Having mentioned it, he had become aware of it. He only took it for her work ethic, that she was a serious student. "I have. I never thought to attribute it to you inability to focus. But your reports never mentioned anything about ADD or ADHD," he added._

_This elicited a more active response. Sam laughed and turned in her seat, looking slightly silly with the Helmet still hooked up. "That's because I don't have either. Now come take this fucking thing off. It's about as comfortable as an abominable steel corset-i.e. not at all." _

_Bruce found that he was actually happy to hear her swearing again. It was a little unsettling when she went so long without a single expletive. The Helmet was carefully removed and placed gently inside its case. Sam was already working the cap off her head and he took that from her as well. She shook out her curls and ran her fingers over scalp, scratching all the areas irritated by the silicone. _

"_Then why do you have a hard time focusing?" Bruce finally asked._

"_Because of the damned buzzing," she answered matter-of-factly._

"_Buzzing?"_

_Her hands froze as she stared at him. "You didn't read the reports in full, did you?"_

_Bruce felt himself blush slightly. "Apparently not as much as I thought."_

_Her fingers resumed their work as she said, "You probably skipped over it thinking it wasn't important. But yeah, there's a never-fucking-ending buzzing in my head that's distracting as all shit. Sometimes it's so light that I only notice it when it's quiet while other times it's so deafening it's like a jackhammer stabbing into my brain. Those are the worst."_

"_How often?" He couldn't believe he had looked over this information. This could actually explain a lot about Sam's behavior._

"_The jackhammer ones only happen when I get really worked up. But they're a result of radiation sickness."_

**Radiation sickness**_. _

_Bruce never thought Sam would be able to get radiation sickness. The assumption was always that she was immune to her own self. This was another game changer. _

"_And nothing alleviates these symptoms?" he wondered out loud. His scientist was coming out as hypotheses and queries flew around in his mind._

_Sam seemed to hesitate before answering, "Well, there _**is**_ something. Dr. Palmer was the one who discovered it."_

_Bruce figured it couldn't be good then._

"_I kind of have these 'abilities'." Sam seemed to struggle with the wording, taking her time and observing the doctor's reactions._

"_Like the DVD player you fried," Bruce supplied, thinking back to the first time he met her._

"_Yeah, like that!" She perked up now that she felt he was following her. "But that's not all I can do. I'm only limited by the radiation sickness. When I get upset or angry I get the overwhelming urge to release it only I _**can't**_. I can't hurt anyone so I hold it in and that leads to the severe headaches."_

"_Is there any way for you to release this restrained energy in a controlled environment? There must be some sort of room in this building constructed to withstand a little burst of radiation."_

_Again the hesitation. "Dr. Palmer wanted permission to convert an unused space into an exercise room, where I could go about as I pleased, but it was rejected."_

_Bruce found it strange that Dr. Palmer, the doctor who performed unethical tests on Sam, would think of something that would ease her stress. Then again, he would have probably use it as a way to poke and prod her more extensively._

"_Why was it rejected, Sam?"_

_She was quiet for a moment. "They were afraid he was going to train me."_

_Before he could filter himself he asked, "Train you for what?"_

_Sam stared at him, not answering. A heartbeat later it was as if a switch had been flipped; her demeanor changed and she looked at him with a sparkle in her hazel eyes. "Don't we have some more of this fucking test to get through?"_

_Bruce was well prepared for her to complain throughout the entirety of the physical fitness tests. Before the cardio, she asked him, "Who the fuck do I look like, Olivia Newton-John?" She completed it nonetheless._

_The results were also just as enlightening as the cognitive. He found her natural ability in all tested areas to be above average. With more training-_

_Bruce ended the thought right there. That was what Dr. Palmer had wanted-to train her. In no way would he ever let himself follow in the man's footsteps. When the testing was complete, he allowed Sam to shower off for the last portion. It was going to prove to be insurmountably uncomfortable for the both of them. He moved to a portable privacy screen, hoping that Sam would feel slightly better if she didn't feel exposed to the entire room._

_He fidgeted with the camera meant to take photographs for the records. He continuously checked his watch, growing anxious with each glance. This was going to be the death of him. It wasn't that he'd never seen the female form nude before, it was something that he couldn't describe. The previous women had been strangers, brought in solely for whatever experiment being conducted. Examining someone he knew in such an intimate way was weird. Plus, she was only eighteen and he was twenty-five. It felt wrong to look at someone so young nude. _

_He ran a hand through his hair. Bruce had to think of it as taking care of her. These check ups were for her health. He was saving her life. Or so he told himself. It did very little to ease his anxiety and he began wringing his hands._

_Sam apparently shared his sentiments as she slowly and quietly tiptoe into the room. Her hands clutched a blue robe tightly around her and tensed even more as she approached him._

"_Why do we have to do this part? It fucking sucks," she mumbled to herself._

_Bruce smiled, pitying her. "We have to document any anomalies that could be traced to your radiation. You already informed me of the ill effects from stress. There could be other side effects that are less noticeable."_

_Still unconvinced, Sam didn't loosen her grip on the robe. _

_Deciding to move in a different direction, Bruce suggested, "Sam, I'm your doctor right now, Dr. Banner. Do not think of me as Bruce or Doc or Hey Bitch, as you so lovingly called me the other day. I am a man of Science, a nuclear physicist."_

"_It's not the same. I _**know**_ you. It's embarrassing."_

"_Miss Wells-"_

"_I've never had prolonged interaction with a guy before. I've never so much as held hands. You can't expect me to just simply get buck-ass nude in front of you."_

"_Why not me? Did you not have to do this with Dr. Palmer?"_

_She snorted and rolled her eyes. "He was easy. Dr. Palmer didn't see me as anything more than a science project. I got over it real fucking quick. But you're _**you**_. You're not some old, graying geezer. You're…" she trailed off._

_Now Dr. Banner was intrigued. "I'm what?"_

_Sam fidgeted under his gaze. "Can't we get a woman to do this part?"_

"_All those who have the qualifications aren't available. I'm the only one, Miss Wells." He was trying to make this easier for her, and for himself. Dr. Banner figured that if he separated himself from her on a personal level, then it wouldn't be so bad. If only he could get her to think along the same way._

"_I'll say this once more. I am your doctor, you are my ward. Understand?"_

_With growing agitation, Sam huffed and shot him a glare. "No."_

_Now she was being difficult on purpose. "How about this," he posed. "What if I examine your backside first?"_

_She ruminated for a bit until she gave him a jittery nod._

_He smiled comfortingly. At least he hoped it was comforting. As tense as he was it probably came off as a pained mouth spasm. Moving to stand a ways behind her he allowed her a moment to gather courage. _

"_Whenever you're ready."_

"_Fuck," she said under breath. At first her movements were tentative and then she whipped the robe off. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." The word was repeated until she managed to pull the robe to her front and used it to cover herself. Her eyes were closed the entire time. "Fuck me." _

_She instantly became rigid, causing Dr. Banner to look up from his clipboard. _

_Sam began to stutter. "I mean, not 'fuck me' as in…you know…just I can't believe this is happening right now and now I've gone and fucked myself over with embarrassment and you're probably thinking-"_

"_Sam."_

_She fell silent._

"_I'm going to need you to stand quietly while I perform the examination." Dr. Banner never took her for the modest type. It was amazing the things you learned about people whenever they had to take off their clothes._

_Pictures were taken at various distances; he took detailed notes in case the photos weren't up to par. Dr. Banner was proud of himself for remaining professional; Sam even seemed to be in a state of calm._

_Taking a deep breath, he said smoothly, "I am now going perform the tactile examination. Miss Wells, are you ready?"_

"_Yes." She sounded distant._

_Sam was glad to feel that his hands were warm. Dr. Palmer's had always been cold. Dr. Banner pressed into her back muscles every few centimeters, searching for swelling and suspicious bumps. He took note of her thin figure to compile a weight-gain regimen in the near future. Unknowingly, he passed over a sensitive part on her side and she jerked slightly out of his reach._

"_Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't realize you were ticklish." He wrote it down in his notes._

"_Just don't do it again, you motherfuckin' bastard," she murmured._

_Other than her slight frame, her back appeared normal. There were a few small moles and a small birthmark above her tailbone but nothing to cause immediate concern. She looked to be in fine shape. _

_As if convincing her to allow him to inspect her backside wasn't difficult enough, he now had to do the front and Sam was fully prepared to barrage him with a string of threats, emotional pleas, and profanity galore but it was all lost the moment he came to face her. Her nerve having jumped ship, she exhaled shakily and looked him in the eyes._

"_Please, Bruce."_

_There went the professional, detached nuclear physicist he boasted earlier. Never before had he seen her in such a state. Looking down at the clipboard, filled with his messy scrawl, Bruce nodded, conceding to her plea._

"_All right, Sam. I'll see if I can get a hold of a female doctor to do the rest."_

_All at once Sam relaxed. She gave him a small smile and sighed, "Thank you."_

_Running a hand through his hair, he told her to go get dressed. The progress reports were finished; Sam was no longer needed. His work wasn't over though. The room needed to be reset and the equipment stored away. The data would have to be inputted into the database for further study. Bruce was eager to see what he could learn and how he could use it for his own work._

_The lab door whooshed open and he looked up from the computers to see Sam standing awkwardly. Giving her a reassuring smile, Bruce said, "That will be all Sam. Thank you."_

_She avoided his gaze and noded silently._

"_I'll be up soon to help out with dinner," he added as an afterthought._

_Almost half an hour later, Bruce was finally able to drag himself away from his work to fulfill his promise. Sam was already busying herself in the kitchen, preparing dinner. He took notice of the plastic gloves she wore and was impressed by her forethought. No matter what, Sam was continuously aware of the hazards she posed to others._

_Opening his mouth to announce his presence, Bruce hurriedly thought better of it. He found himself struck with a better idea._

_Taking soft, calculated steps, Bruce snuck up behind the unsuspecting Sam and assaulted the sensitive spot he had discovered earlier. Her knee-jerk reaction was to collapse to the floor to escape his reach. The shriek that escaped embarrassed her._

_Staring up at him, wide-eyed, Sam couldn't find anything to say. Even though she had _**plenty**_ to say. All she could manage was a weak, "What?"_

"_I have finally found a chink in your armor, Sam," he revealed to her._

_Her shock turned into fury. "I'm killing you."_

_They managed to resume dinner without a hitch, even going so far as to hold civil conversation. Sam asked Bruce how his research was progressing and Bruce asked Sam about other before-her-time television shows she enjoyed. That subject later led them to firing up a marathon run of I Love Lucy. Both parties were grateful for some downtime to ease whatever tension had built up during the physical. Bruce only furthered the delight by reassuring Sam Dr. Panditi would be visiting to complete the rest of the exam._

* * *

"You all right?"

I blinked, not even realizing that I had spaced out and had been staring at Bruce. "Uh, yeah. Just taking a trip down memory lane."

"You've doing that more and more lately?"

Shrugging, I replied, "Well, you're leaving tonight so the memories are all I'll have until you come back. And we make new ones." I grinned at him suggestively.

"Right," he suddenly turned serious and a small part of me feared that I had crossed some line. Which would have been royal bullshit with the display he had put on earlier. "I should get going."

"Write me," I hastily said.

He smiled. "Every day."

"Promise?"

"Ms. Wells, as your doctor I promise to maintain correspondence the entirety of my absence. Understand?"

"Yes." What else could I say?

"Excellent. I'll commence the letters at the airport while I await boarding."

And then after a brief smile he was gone, leaving me rooted to the spot where he had overpowered me with an embrace too emotionally-loaded for me to even begin wrapping my mind around.

It would take me months, over a year in fact, to decode his motives.

The loss of my dear doctor friend left me surprisingly unfilled. Was I really going to allow myself to stand idly by like a fucking fool and just allow Bruce to leave without a proper goodbye? No. Because that would be a tragedy, a crime on the universal good. Bruce deserved better than a shitty "yes" as my last word. I couldn't have even be bothered to make that word_**s**_.

My heart dropped to my feet as they shot from their place and threw me at the door. I practically flew down the hall until I could see Bruce in the distance, his head lowered and shoulders slumped as he casually strolled away from me.

"Yo Banner!"

The nuclear physicist didn't even know what hit him (_**me**_) when I jumped him and we collided with the wall. He chuckled, my arms wrapped securely around his neck.

"I'm gonna miss ya, Doc."

He rubbed my back with light fingers, knowing every mark, mole, and blemish that adorned it from the numerous physicals. I found it to be soothing. "I'll be back before you know it."

Instinctively, my hold tightened. As if my gut knew it wouldn't be true.

* * *

_A/N: I meant to get this out this past Wednesday but I was overpowered by the procrastination. _

_This chapter has several technical/scientific properties that I am not at all strong in. I did research a bit, even using my old psych textbook, but I don't know if it came across as realistic. But then again, one of the main characters turns into a giant, green, powerhouse of strength when provoked to anger. Sometimes suspension of belief is required. I only hope you didn't have to suspend too much. And if any of the science is dead wrong, please let me know so that I can correct it. I would very much appreciate it._

_And man, a little more insight into Sam Wells, eh? Physicals such as that are no fun. I had to go through one myself a few years back and that had been in underwear and with a stranger and it was still hella uncomfortable. Hopefully I made up for that bout of awkwardness with a little bit of fluff? That kind of counted right? Even a measly bit?_

_The South Park reference: I figured it would be appropriate for a foul-mouthed character to enjoy a show starring foul-mouthed characters. Plus, I adore Eric Cartman and his love for Mr. Kitty (who should actually be_ **Mrs.** _Kitty since _**she**_ went into heat in an episode)._

_Thank you for reading :]_


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